by K. R. Willis
Pasting on a forced smile, I gritted out, “I don’t know who to choose. Do you have a suggestion?”
My gaze followed his as he glanced over his shoulder. “The big orange one is the newcomer, so most would bet on his opponent, since he’s the previous winner,” he explained. “But personally, I like him. He comes from a long line of battle-tested trolls, and that barbed tail of his is totally badass.” I almost smiled for real at his enthusiasm and choice of words, but the seriousness of where we were and what these fights meant kept me from doing so.
“I’ll go with him, then.” My hands shook as I reached into the pocket and fingered the bills. I didn’t even look to see how much I grabbed from the stash of bills Arnaud had given me, but relied instead on touch to remove what felt like a decent amount. The young man’s eyes rounded slightly when I placed the wad of bills in his hand. Hopefully I hadn’t done something wrong. I thought of saying something along those lines, but instead I squared my shoulders and in as commanding a voice as I could manage I told him, “Put this on the orange one. If he wins, you’ll get a nice tip.”
The young man smiled and nodded at me. “Yes, ma’am. You got it.” He placed a name card in my hand after taking the money and disappeared to help finish collecting the other people’s bets. Though only millimeters, the card felt thick in my fingers as I looked down at it and read the name embossed on it in gold letters: Tarjan. My heart clenched. Had I just helped sign his death warrant? No, I scolded myself. I believed I was responsible for George being here, but I didn’t have anything to do with anyone else being here, and I couldn’t save them all.
My heart sank to my shoes as the fight began.
Rya, hurry. We need to get out of here as soon as possible. I didn’t know how far she’d gone in her search for George or if she could hear me, but it couldn’t hurt to prod her along. When she didn’t respond, I figured I had my answer. With nothing to do but wait, I stared at one of the Roman busts to my left and tried to ignore the grunts and groans of the fierce battle going on before me.
∞∞∞
By some strange stroke of luck, both trolls had managed to knock each other unconscious, so a draw was announced. The crowd booed as the two were dragged from the arena by massive horses. I couldn’t cheer aloud without drawing undue attention to myself, so I booed with everyone else, and silently sent up a thank you to the Great Spirit. I’d lost at least half of Leo’s money, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. No one had died.
Even though I wanted to run as fast as I could from the arena, I pushed slowly to my feet and walked purposefully toward the exit. I’d gotten lucky in that the fight I bet on hadn’t ended in death, and I wasn’t about to hang around and watch another one that I had no doubt in my mind wouldn’t end the same way. Surely, Rya must have found George by now. I just had to find them and then we could get the hell out of here.
I made it about halfway to the exit when I felt Rya’s presence and her voice suddenly cut into my thoughts.
I found George, she said, sounding a little winded.
Hope blossomed in my chest. Maybe this would work after all. We’d get him out and he’d be able to move away and find another pack like we’d originally thought he had.
But it may be too late, Rya added, turning my moment of hope into a pipe dream. Just as I found him, guards came and got him. He’s on his way to the arena. I’m sorry Keira, but he’s the next one to fight.
As if her words needed physical proof, the crowd suddenly erupted into an uproar as the iron gates squeaked and shuddered, announcing the arrival of the next fighters.
There he is, she said. Reluctantly, I turned to face the arena, and watched with horror as George, in his half-werewolf form, entered the arena.
His wolf, which I’d never seen before since he always stayed in human form when he bounced at the club, reminded me of bales of straw. It shimmered in the overhead lights, glistening with sweat and adrenaline. His deep amber eyes scanned the arena, presumably looking for his prey. With wolf ears flicking back and forth, he shambled over to one of the racks along the wall and picked out a Viking-style sword and mace. When his opponent entered the arena, a black werewolf about the same size, he let out an ear-splitting sound that was half howl and half roar. Aside from the fact that he walked on two legs, there didn’t seem to be much human left in him.
The weight of what was happening suddenly caught up with me and my heart stuttered to a stop. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the nearby railing. The blood must have drained from my face because a spectator asked if I was okay. “I’m fine,” I muttered without even looking at him. Shaking, I sank onto a spot that had emptied after the last battle with the trolls.
What do we do now? Rya asked. How will we get him out?
I have no idea, I said as I struggled to swallow the saliva in my throat. My stomach sank to my toes, and nausea threatened to make an ass of me in front of the crowd as I sat there helpless and watched George circle his opponent, for what might be the last time.
Chapter 8
The stone seats vibrated as the two werewolves clashed. A deafening clang of steel on steel pierced my ears as they fought with the weapons they’d each chosen. When one wolf managed to relieve the other of his weapons, they resorted to using their claws and teeth, until they gained enough ground to retrieve either one of the fallen weapons, or another from a rack on the wall. It went back and forth like that for what felt like hours, but had probably only been about thirty minutes. Every time George lost his weapons and appeared to be on the losing end, I swear my heart ceased to send blood to the rest of my body because I felt numb and lifeless.
Rya hissed quietly beside me and rubbed against my leg, no doubt feeling the same fear I did. She waited for my cue on what to do, but the problem was I still hadn’t figured that out. There was no way I could jump into the arena and fight off his opponent for him. Even with Rya’s help he’d eat me alive. That much was clear as he held his ground against George, who was no slouch as a fighter. They returned blow for blow, making the stadium quiver around them with the fierceness of their attacks.
Entranced and horrified, I watched as they exchanged hit after hit, teeth and claws, sword strike against flail spikes, until they each stood panting from the effort and being evenly matched, dripping blood onto the sand-covered floor. Neither one made a move. Both of them looked like they were about to drop from exhaustion.
At some point, I’d slid forward onto the edge of my seat, not even caring that my dress had inched its way up my thigh. Nobody else seemed to care either. The crowd held its collective breath, waiting to see who emerged victorious: the wolf who was black as a starless night, or the straw-colored one whose fur had been streaked with crimson like an abstract painting.
I forgot how to breathe.
“Finish it!” an angry female voice said. I winced from the fire in those two simple words that, when put together, held so much meaning. Me and over half the audience looked up to where the voice had come from. A balcony, not unlike the one Emperor Titus would have used in Roman times, sat above the arena on the far left side, giving whoever sat there perfect view of everything.
A tall, lithe woman came into view as she approached the stone railing. Long chestnut-colored hair had been done up in a messy bun, with what appeared to be olive leaves interspersed through her hair in such a way it made a makeshift crown. Her creamy white gown had been styled to resemble a Roman toga, but somehow managed to hug her curves in all the right places. Her dark eyes were piercing as they gazed out over the arena at George and his opponent.
“You know the penalty. Either one of you dies or you both do.”
My heart skipped another beat. This had to be who Leo told me about. Her commanding presence screamed that she was the one in charge. I debated for half a second whether or not I should go try to talk some since into her regarding George, maybe find a way to barter his freedom, but the roar of an enraged werewolf cut that thought short and drew my eyes
back to the arena.
The black werewolf had somehow bolstered the strength to attack George with his flail. He swung it at George’s midsection, just barely missing tearing him in two. Two of the three spiked heads missed completely, but the third struck and sank deep into George’s tender midsection. Blood sprayed outward in a gruesome arc.
I pushed to my feet as he let out a spine-tingling howl filled with pain and rage, before he cleaved his opponent’s head from his shoulders with a blade I hadn’t known he carried. The sickening wet plop of the werewolf’s head hitting the ground echoed through the room, then the crowd went wild with applause.
Suddenly nauseous, I gripped my stomach and leaned against the railing. George had survived, thank the Great Spirit, but the sight of what he’d had to do in order to stay alive made my stomach roil and bile rise up my throat. My breath came out in short pants. I knew he’d had no choice, not if he wanted to live, but it didn’t make it any easier.
The sad realization hit me that I’d have done the same thing in his shoes.
Look, Rya urged me. Something is happening.
I glanced up to see five guards approaching George with shackles, no doubt intending to return him to his cell, but instead of looking like he would go with them, he’d donned his blade and a fighting stance, teeth bared. What the hell was he thinking? All five guards wore Roman styled armor that glinted in the overhead lights, and they were armed to the teeth. Granted, they weren’t armed with guns—no doubt Izabella wanted to keep true to her Roman theme—but the swords they sported would kill a werewolf just fine. I knew firsthand.
George roared his defiance and attacked the first guard. The man went down instantly, his face shredded by George’s claws. Several of the women closest to the action screamed, and a mob of people fled the stadium. Apparently, it was okay for supernaturals to kill each other, but not humans.
The remaining four guards closed in around George, albeit more cautiously. One of them managed to slice his leg right above the calf, while another caught him in the shoulder right before George crushed his windpipe with his clawed hand.
“Enough!” Izabella declared. She leaned on the railing, her face livid. “Submit, or your victories end here.”
George stopped, his body heaving and dripping blood. For a moment he just stood there, and I thought he would actually submit and let them lead him back to his cell where I could rescue him, but then he narrowed his wolf eyes and let out one of the most spine-tingling, mournful howls I’d ever heard. Chills raced down my spine as I realized he had just issued his challenge. He would fight to the death, even if that meant it would be his own.
“Kill him,” Izabella said. The guards advanced, swords raised.
“No!” I shoved off the rail and ran back the way I’d come in, then hung a left so fast I nearly lost my footing. The sandstone that created the base of the stadium seemed to stretch forever as I ran in search of a way to get into the arena to help George. I wove my way around people, in and out of alcoves that led nowhere, and got turned around twice. My heart thumped painfully in my chest as the crowd let out a collective gasp. I had to find a way in quickly before there would be no point.
A thought suddenly occurred to me and I wanted to slap myself for not thinking of it sooner. Rya! Where are you? I felt her nearby, but was too distracted to know how close.
Right beside you, she answered.
Do you remember seeing a way into the arena when you were looking for George? I asked.
Not specifically, but I saw which tunnel they headed toward with him when I split off to find you. That’s got to be it. She dropped her magic so I could see her and took off. Follow me.
Several people screamed as we ran past. I guess the sight of a large puma in the middle of a mostly human crowd terrified them. We rounded a section of sandstone that formed part of the base of the seats, and ended up in a short corridor. It wasn’t guarded since they had gone in to fetch George, and a small person-sized gate set inside the larger one had been left ajar. Rya wrapped herself in her magic once again, and disappeared as I shoved it open. We burst into the arena, and the crowd roared.
The deafening noise drowned out the painful thumping of my heart as I raced toward George and the three remaining guards, who had surrounded him like a pack of wolves and took turns attacking. When one stepped in and drew his attention, another would advance and slice, then jump back out of reach before George could get to him. These guys were smarter than the other two, working together in unison instead of alone. If this kept up, they’d kill him slice by slice. It really would be death by a thousand cuts.
Well, we’d just see about that.
I charged straight for the guard closest to me. The noise from the crowd had drowned out our approach, and the concentration it took for them to keep up their attacks had kept them from noticing me until I was only feet away. His eyes rounded briefly in his Roman helmet before he turned his bloody sword on me. I couldn’t see Rya, but I knew which guard she’d picked when he suddenly screamed. There was no time to pay attention to her; I had my own guy to deal with.
He paused for a moment as he surveyed my outfit. “Who the hell are you?” he asked. His features were well hidden underneath his Roman attire, but curly ends of his auburn hair peeked out from under his helmet.
“A friend of the guy you’re picking on,” I told Curly.
He held his sword in his right hand, so I dodged to my right, away from the deadly blade, and struck him in the back of the head as hard as I could. Surprised, he staggered forward several steps before he caught his balance. When he turned to face me, any uncertainty he’d had about why I was here, or about him hitting a woman, had disappeared. He narrowed his eyes and shifted the position of his feet.
Everything around me disappeared as I blew out a deep breath to center myself, and took up the stance I used with Sam. His teachings had saved my life more than once these past couple weeks, but I still thought of our training as just that—training. I had hoped to never use my skills in real life again after battling the werewolf pack, and everyone else who had come after me recently, but it seemed the universe had other plans. Which is why I stood in the middle of a Roman inspired arena, facing a man covered in armor wielding a sword, in a very expensive dress with no weapons.
The universe hated me.
Curly smiled, showing slightly crooked teeth, then swung at me with the skill of a practiced fighter. I just managed to suck my stomach in to avoid having my insides being spilled onto the arena floor. As it was, the tip of the sword put a nasty new seam in Leo’s expensive dress. Damn, I’d hoped this guy was an amateur.
A noise somewhere to my right grabbed my notice. I hated to turn my attention away from Curly, but I hated not knowing what was going on even more, so I risked a quick glance, and saw that three more guards had entered the arena from the gate at the other end and had engaged George. Rya was somewhere in the mix, but I couldn’t see her and knew that she’d yell if she needed me, so I turned back to Curly.
Of the two of us, he held the only weapon, so our dance began. He advanced, I retreated. He went left, I dodged right. He landed a slice here and there, and I got in several good punches and kicks. Sam would have been proud, but then again, he probably would have been pissed I was here in the first place.
Curly shifted his weight, giving away the fact he was about to strike, so when he made a large move to slice me in half, I was ready for him. Either from overconfidence or carelessness, he made the mistake of putting too much power behind the thrust so when he hit open air he couldn’t recover, his balance too severely compromised. I took advantage.
In a move Sam had taught me not long ago, I spun around next to him, rammed my elbow into his back, and sent him sprawling to the sandy floor. He dropped his sword upon impact, and I dove for it. Before he even knew what hit him, I swung the butt of the sword in a downward arc, and hit him hard enough in the head that, even with his helmet still on, he collapsed. Unconscious.
/> I suddenly realized a strange sort of silence had fallen around me. All the small cuts Curly gave me burned as I straightened and looked around me. With Rya’s help, George had dispatched all the guards, and now stood heaving and bleeding, looking at me. His eyes were completely amber. His teeth dripped blood. All signs of humanity had gone from what I could see. He growled and snapped at me, and I took a cautious step back.
“George, it’s me. Keira. Your friend from the Blu Moon. I’ve come to take you home.”
Nothing flickered in the amber depths. No recognition, no sign he understood what I said. He growled again and took another step toward me. My foot scratched on the sand as it slid back another step.
Rya, what’s wrong with him? Doesn’t he recognize me?
It seems his wolf has completely taken over in order to survive, she said. It is possible that the George we know is so deeply buried, he cannot hear us. His wolf is in fight mode. I fear it will not listen to anyone other than an Alpha at this point.
Yeah, well, we don’t exactly have one of those around at the moment, I said as I took another hesitant step away to allow a little more space between us. I didn’t want to fight George, but I wouldn’t just stand there and let him kill me either.
George tilted his head, and sniffed the air as though taking in my scent. Maybe some part of him deep down recognized me. I tried again. “George, please. Let us help you. We can get you out of here,” I whispered.
His ears flickered back and forth as though listening, but I wasn’t sure he understood. The sword I clutched made a dull thump when it hit the sand-covered floor, then I held my hands up, showing him that I was no threat, and hoping I could break through to the human inside.
Whatever you do, don’t run, Rya offered. His killing instincts will kick in for sure.
